Stories
by kuribie
Summary: The stories his grandfather once told him had only been stories until fiction became reality. With only his memories, a faded photograph and a mysterious card, Evan is left with an unbearable question: the connections he has with his predecessor, is there more to it than he expects?


poofs in hello!  
this story took me a very, very long time to write and i put a lot of effort into it ;v;

i actually wasn't going to upload this cuz of that letters fic, idk it kind of discouraged me and made me feel insecure about it-but nonetheless, here it is, 14 pages later uwu

about the fic - the idea sort of just came to me one day. to be honest, i dont really believe the theory that freud and evan are somehow distant relatives, but a "grandpa!freud-teaches-young-evan-how-to-read" fic sounded kind of fun and cute crieS then it turned into angst

it always turns into angst

anyways i was really inspired by yukistyle's homecoming and bulelo's memory lane! im sorry im so dumb omg but i hope you all enjoy! ;o;

* * *

"Evan, it's time to go."

Anna waited impatiently by the door of their cozy wooden home, occasionally picking at her neatly tied bun and straightening her eldest son's clothing. Gustav was already waiting in the old, dirty red truck, tapping his fingers lightly on the steering wheel as he whistled an old tune. Being more patient than his wife, Gustav easily adjusted to his youngest son's dawdling over time. The young child was always so curious, often getting lost in his own little world. His attention often drifted and lifted him into a daydream, and often times than not, he wouldn't return to reality for quite some time. It was common for kids his age to do so, though Utah had always been an attentive child.

Moments later, a small boy came waddling down the steep steps of the wooden staircase, holding a bulky, dusty book in his hands. He tripped and stumbled over his own feet, the weight of the overly-sized book causing his balance to waver. Anna sighed, taking the heavy book and handing it to Utah, who rolled his eyes and made his way to the truck. The woman shook her head and smiled, leaning down and picking the tiny boy, joining the rest of her family for the ride.

"This stupid book's too heavy for ya," Utah commented once Evan was seated in the car, "s'all dusty 'n' gross. Look, the pages are barely even attached!"

The small boy pouted, "but I like it when Grandpa reads it to me!"

"Just read it yourself so we don't hav'ta lug it 'round every time we go to his house!"

"I don't know how to read!"

"Then _learn_!"

"Grandpa's teaching me how to read!"

Utah sighed in defeat, mumbling, "well, it's not really workin'," before crossing his arms and turning away from Evan for the rest of the ride.

* * *

"Grandpa!" The boy threw himself at the older man, arms circling around his legs in a giant hug. The elder man chuckled and untied the knot of arms, picking the boy up and standing aside to let the other three into his home.

The small home always held a lingering welcoming scent. The smell of lit candles, of newly bought books, neatly stacked and organized appropriately. To Evan, it was his own personal library he could access anytime, despite his small vocabulary and lack of understanding to most of the books on the shelves. As Utah would much rather climb the seemingly hundreds of bookshelves, his little brother would pull appealing novels out from their rightful place and drag it roughly over to his grandfather's reading chair, plopping it down into his arms while climbing on his lap. It was something that had sparked his interest for years, his long yearning to learn always inspiring him to read – rather, listen – more and more, discovering even more mysteries of the untold world. As Utah couldn't care less about anything that didn't include action heroes or cute girls, he didn't see any enjoyment in seeing his grandfather, often times finding excuses to not go or continuously complain during the entire visit. The only bonus in going was the sweets his grandfather kept in his kitchen, which would ultimately be gone after one visit.

As usual, Evan's first instinct once he entered the home was to immediately rush to the 'library' – it was more of a study, really, as at the end of the room was an oddly messy desk scattered with papers and opened books. The little boy scanned through every title, hands lightly touching each sleeve of the spines of the books, dust dirtying his palms while doing so. He couldn't comprehend most of these titles, most of the time his picks were solely because of the colour of the spine or by the cover. His grandfather would always remind him never to judge a book by its cover, but Evan never doubted that any of his elder's books would be boring in the slightest.

Peering over her shoulder, Anna let out a soft giggle as she watched Evan attempt to climb the shelves in order to get a better look at each and every novel the shelf had to offer.

"You've created a monster, Freud." She commented as she took a thoughtful sip of her tea. Her husband lightly chuckled, laughing more as a dull bang and a distant, "oof!" was heard in the background. The elder man simply waved his hand, dismissing the comment as he too sat with the couple in the kitchen.

"I've created no such thing. The world of literature is such a vast, mysterious world, and I'm glad at least one of my grandchildren realizes that," He stated simply as he took a sip of his own tea, sea blue eyes shifting over to observe his grandson rubbing his head in pain before jumping right back on his feet, ready to continue his hunt. "he reminds me so much of myself when I was young, it's almost looking into a mirror..."

"Well, at least we won't hav'ta worry 'bout him gettin' bored when he's outta farm work, unlike someone we know," Gustav noted while gazing over to look at his obviously-bored looking elder son who was entertaining himself by tossing a small rock he had picked up outside the house earlier in the air. Gustav merely rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to his grandfather. "Dad woulda had his head if he saw him lazin' around."

Freud's eyes lit up as he laughed, a gloved hand running through his dark grey hair. "Yes, yes, your father was such a hard worker – he even scolded me for apparently 'wasting my time inside while I could be outside enjoying nature!' He never even thought of appreciating the works of literature and never could understand the reasons for my research," He sighed in contentment, a melancholy expression gazing into his eyes. "so full of life, he was. It's such an upsetting thought that he never lived to see his own grandchildren. I'm very sorry, Gustav."

The other man was silent for a second before sighing and scratching the back of his head. "No, no, it's alright. It's nothin' we coulda prevented. He lived a good life, and we got our memories to tell the boys when they're older."

"Do they not know?" Freud raised an eyebrow.

"Utah does," Anna interrupted, "which is why he doesn't call you 'grandpa.' I don't have the heart to tell Evan – he's much too young and I doubt he'd understand."

"I understand," Freud sighed, setting his cup down. "I could see something was wrong by the look Utah gives me. I don't blame the boy – it's hard to digest and act like everything is the same."

"He's a growing boy, he'll get over it. Just give him time – he'll warm up eventually!" Anna commented to lighten the mood, earning a small smile from the other.

Soon enough, Evan toddled over to the kitchen, wobbling with the giant book he brought from his own house, setting it down on the table with a loud _thud _before climbing onto a chair himself and pouting_. _There was a slight pause of silence as the adults waited for child to say something.

After a few moments of silence and no progress, Freud finally popped the question, "Is something wrong, Evan?"

The boy slouched further into his seat. "I didn't find a book."

"Then what's this?" The man said as he tapped his fingers on the old book.

"It's the book I wanted to read! I brought it from home but Utah said it was stupid!" Evan pouted and averted his eyes down, seemingly still hurt by his older brother's words.

Freud sighed deeply and patted the boy on the head, gently ruffling his messy auburn hair. "No book is stupid, Evan. Every piece of literature has its own unique quality. Now, why don't we go to the study and read your book?"

A bright grin spread across Evan's young features before he jumped down from his chair and raced to his grandfather's study. Freud merely chuckled, slowly shaking his head while grabbing the heavy book, which wasn't very difficult for him as it was for Evan.

"Have fun, Freud. Knowing him, you won't be able to move until you finish the entire thing," Anna giggled at her own son's determination and curiosity, "don't worry about dinner, I can take care of it while you keep Evan entertained."

"Ahh, are you sure, Anna? He may be very interested, but again, he is young – his focus can be very limited when he wants it to be." Freud raised an eyebrow as he took out his reading glasses.

"No, no, it's fine. Call it a favour for taking care of our little baby boy."

Evan squirmed, adjusting his position in his grandfather's lap in order to get comfortable enough. His patient grandfather waited until the boy ceased his movement, then pulled the dusty book into his view, lightly brushing it to brush off some of the dust that clung to the book's cover.

"Alright, now what do we have here...?" Freud questioned, flipping the book from front to back, observing it. There wasn't much to be seen, really, as most of the dirt and built up mold covered the entire front side, making it impossible to read the title or author. Not that the old man minded – he enjoyed diving into a novel blindly.

"I got it yesterday! Mama took me to Henesys Market yesterday and we went to see Mrs. Pierce!" Evan exclaimed excitedly, happily squirming and playing with his hands, "I told her about the stories you tell me, about the heroes, and she got really happy, so she gave me this book!"

"Hmm, the heroes..." Freud pondered, "...I see."

"Mhmm, mhmm! She was really happy – I wonder if she knows a lot about the heroes like you, Grandpa!" The boy never took the small archer to be a historian. Though she was a wonderful teacher and leader, she never dropped any hints of her knowledge of history – then again, Athena Pierce was always such a mysterious woman, one that Evan could never understand or figure out.

On the other hand, however, the topic of the so-called Heroes of Maple weren't "history" as they were folktales, but Evan, at his young age, was passionate to believe the group existed and saved the entire world from demise.

Freud chuckled, "Yes. Athena is a very intelligent elf. She's very wise, Evan. If you ever need advice or guidance, Athena is your best choice."

Evan nodded, interests shifting back to the book as he promptly opened the book, carefully making sure not to rip the delicate, old pages. Freud sighed, shaking his head and chuckling even more as he began to read the long, drawled-out novel.

Hours passed before Freud finally closed the heavy book, sighing in relief. Though he was relieved to finally rest his voice and his _sanity_, the boy sitting square in his lap seemed puzzled, maybe even sad. Concerned, Freud gently placed the oversized book on his desk. He carefully turned Evan to face him and placed a worried hand on the boy's head.

"What's the matter, Evan? Did you not like the story?" Freud asked, gently patting his head.

"I... I don't get it," Evan's eyes shifted, confusion glittering in his bright blue eyes, "I.. I thought – at the end of all the stories Mama read to me, they were all happy endings! Everyone lived happily ever after! How... How come all the heroes died? They're heroes! Heroes never die!" Now the boy was clearly upset – he raised his arms in tribulation, eyes widening and slightly watering.

"Evan..." Freud sighed, gently sliding his own hand down to clasp over his grandson's shaking fists. "Sometimes, it's necessary to make sacrifices for the greater good. The heroes – er, well, in this story – sacrificed their lives so Maple World would be at peace again. Though it's sad they didn't live to see that peace, their deaths were heroic ones."

"B-But... They worked so hard and got nothing in return...?" Evan sniffed, though no tears fell. Freud could tell he would be a very compassionate in the upcoming future, as he was already reaching out to fictional characters on a written page. Perhaps that was a hopeful thought to hold, though at the moment it provided no help with the current situation.

"Ah, but their efforts weren't in vain. They brought a peaceful and happy future for their friends and families, for the people of the future. Isn't that good enough?" A small grin formed on Freud's old features, making him look much younger. "Evan, these people allied together for a similar purpose and goal. They knew exactly what they were doing, and they knew exactly the consequences. They wanted to pursue such a dangerous mission in order to maintain the safety of their loved ones and the future of the world. Do you understand?"

Evan grimly looked down. He didn't quite understand what his grandfather was saying, but he supposed pushing the subject any further wouldn't do any good for both parties. Instead, his head tilted upwards, sniffing curiously until he smelled a whiff of dinner. His eyes glittered, a dumb grin spreading across his face as he shifted off his grandfather's lap and bolted to the kitchen.

Freud lightly chuckled, lifting his right hand up to glide through his hair. His other hand raised over to pick up the book, gently sliding his dry fingers over the cover. His eyes softened, holding a sentimental value in them as he flipped through the pages, examining each and every picture and every word.

Eventually, after skimming through a few pages, he sighed heavily, standing up and leaving the book alone on his desk, making his way to the kitchen to join his family for dinner.

The sun was melting into the west.

Upon hearing news of their departure, Utah grinned joyously and sprinted for the door, only being stopped by his mother, catching him by the collar and pulling him back into the house. He grunted in annoyance, reluctantly stomping his way back and crossing his arms.

Fumbling with the book in his hands, Evan nervously looked down, barely listening to the adults beside him chat their extended goodbyes. The little boy didn't want to go home – he wanted to stay in his grandfather's library forever, reading every last volume and every novel he had stored in there. He wanted to learn and discover mysteries he never dreamed to be true. He knew his brother would have a fit, though, so he bit his tongue to keep any complaints from slipping passed his lips.

"Utah, Evan, say goodbye to your grandfather." Anna beckoned as their conversation died, prompting her boys to speak after a long period of neglect.

"See ya. Hope ya don't die before we see you 'gain." Utah stated bluntly, causing his mother to gasp and his father lightly slapped him on the back of the head. The statement didn't even make his grandfather flinch – in fact, Freud laughed wholeheartedly, dismissing the arguing parents while waving goodbye to his eldest grandson.

Freud shifted his attention now to the nervous boy standing awkwardly beside him, trying his best to look as small as possible. He smiled, getting down on one knee to meet Evan's eye level. The boy immediately hugged the book closer to his chest.

"Evan," he started, "it was good to see you again. You're growing taller and taller each time you visit. You and Utah will both grow into great men, I can see that just by looking at you two."

Silence poured over the two as the elder man waited for a response. The boy still continued to say nothing. Freud sighed, raising his right hand to Evan's right shoulder and gave an encouraging squeeze.

"I understand you don't want to leave, Evan, but it's not goodbye forever, now is it?" The small brunet slowly raised his head, eyes slowly meeting the others gaze.

For a moment, Evan merely stood there, absorbing and identifying every shade of gleaming blue. Perhaps he had even gotten himself lost in his own mind, switching his entire conscience back to his carefree illusion world of daydreams. It wouldn't be surprising, in Freud's opinion, as he often observed the young boy's behaviour, and often times noticed his attention drifting, practically switching off Evan's entire mind and entering a dream-like state. Utah never did such thing when he was younger, Freud noted, but then again, Evan held such passion in his heart, such that Utah never could hold. It was just the type of person Evan was: ambitious, brave, courageous, and free. Such a carefree nature, yet at the same time he could carry more woes than even Freud himself.

These judgements weren't based off of statistic data or intense observations. Though smart, Freud was also a people person, and his empathy levels stretched to people of all ages. He didn't rely on calculations to make assumptions. Sometimes he just had a feeling. And most of the time he was right.

Snapping back into reality – very quickly, it was literally like a flip of a switch – Evan brightly smiled, nodding enthusiastically.

"Mm! Yeah! You're right!" He grinned even more, quickly turning and running towards the red truck, yelling, "I'll be back soon! Real soon! 'nd I'll show you how great I am at reading!"

Freud chuckled, eyes softening into an odd gaze of both sadness and accomplishment. Gustav noticed such a look – he always did. He may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but Gustav knew how to read emotions, too. He said nothing, though. Previous attempts had always ended in failure, and he knew his grandfather better than to pester him about the subject – it was one of the few subjects that Freud simply did not care to discuss. Unless, of course, it was directed towards someone else, in which he would be delighted to help at any rate. It was odd, but that's just how he was. Instead, he gave a small smile, shaking his grandfather's hand, thanking him in the progress.

Everything was quiet as Anna and Gustav walked away from the old house, one filled with so many fond memories, one filled of mysteries. As Anna entered the truck, sitting in her seat and waiting, Gustav put his hand on the door handle and paused. He stood there for a moment before turning towards the elder man, nodding his head.

"...We'll see you soon."

Freud smiled, "I look forward to your next visit."

* * *

Soon never came.

Soon came about four years later.

Soon was when there was boxes and garbage bags and dust everywhere.

Soon came in the form of cleaning.

"Yuck!" Evan exclaimed as multiple heavy books fell to the floor from the top shelf, causing a storm of dust to fly around his form. "There's just..." he brushed dust off of his pants, "...so much dust! It's gross!" He picked a few of the books and tried to hand them to his older brother.

"Nope," the other replied to his gesture, "not touchin' them. Too dirty. Too gross."

"Hey!" Evan yelled, dropping the books immediately, "I don't like touching dirty things too, but I'm not complaining!"

"That's 'cause no one cares if you're dirty, Evan," the elder stuck his tongue out, "my hands're too beautiful to be dirtified!"

"'Dirtified' isn't a word."

"Says who?"

"Says the _dictionary_!"

"I can create my own words!"

"No you can't!"

"Yes I can!"

"No, you _can't_!"

The two continued to argue until their mother heard their bickering and silenced them both.

"You two, be respectful!" Anna proclaimed, "This was the house of your grandfather, and holds a lot of sentimental value to our family. We're here to clean and pack up his things to save."

"He ain't even our grandfather," Utah pointed out, "he's our _great_ grandfather."

Anna sighed. "Utah, enough with that. Whether he's your grandfather or great grandfather, he's still a close relative. And now that he's passed on, it's up to us to make sure his valuable belongings are stored safely."

"Valuable? Ya mean this junk?" Utah asked as he picked up a very worn out and ripped book, waving it around carelessly.

"Utah! Put that down!" Anna yelled before sighing once again, "but yes, it is. It was very precious to your grandfather – they weren't just books to him. He had been collecting them for many, many decades, and he read every single one of them, if not, rereading them many times. Some of these books are very rare – so rare that there's probably only a few copies in the entire world!"

"If they're so valuable, why don't we just sell 'em?" Utah grumbled. He wasn't a very sympathetic person – he never understood others pain or happiness, only understanding his own emotions clearly. It wasn't that he was cold or selfish, it was only the way he was, and Anna knew that.

"Like I said, these books are precious to him and your father – there are books here that has been in our family for hundreds of years, and it's important to the family that we keep them safe for future generations to read." She ended the conversation with that, walking out of the cramped study to leave her sons to continue their cleaning.

They continued cleaning in silence, part from Utah's mild complaints and comments. Eventually, he became too agitated to continue, and eventually stomped off to either complain to his father about the matter, or simply hide away to slack off in peace, leaving Evan on his own to clean the rest of study.

Evan soon moved onto his grandfather's desk, having finished with the bookcases – rather, the shelves he could actually reach. The old desk was cluttered with untouched papers with messy, unreadable writing scribbled on them. He didn't bother to decipher them, though he did stop to question how could such a righteous and smart man had such awfully rushed, lazy writing. Maybe it was on purpose – perhaps he purposely did so to keep his information a secret from everyone else. Evan paid no mind to the details, merely shaking the thoughts off and neatly stacking all the papers into a pile and slipping them into a protective sheet before placing them into a folder, setting it aside.

Finishing the top of the desk, Evan moved onto the drawers. Most of belongings stored in the drawers were expected – more paper, ink, pens, pencils, books, folders, occasionally something odd like a shiny stone or a necklace. Once in a while he'd find something extremely obscure, like a very vibrant card that was in perfect condition. The back of the card was red with gold designs. Flipping the card over, the colours were much more beautifully blended, looking like a painting. It showed a young man sitting with a huge, vicious-looking dragon that held a friendly look in it's eyes. There was writing on the card, too, but Evan couldn't translate it. The young man looked a lot like Evan, he noted, and it sent a chill through his spine. Still, he felt that this card was very important, so he decided he'd keep it, slipping it into his back pocket.

He still found odd things while searching. At one point he found a sharp stick – although it wasn't a stick, it wasn't sharp but smooth with a handle at the end of it. Evan had no idea why his grandfather had such a thing, he obviously wasn't the type to fool around in such a serious room. Shrugging, he merely broke the stick in half, throwing it carelessly in the trash.

As he was close to finishing – how deep this desk went, Evan couldn't tell, but it felt like he was searching the deep seas – he struck another out-of-place belonging. He picked it up, brushing off the dust. What he held in his hands now was an old picture – a _very_ old picture. It was in black and white, and very faded. The quality was horrible, with scratches and dirt. Though, through that, he could still make out what it was a picture of.

It was a picture of five people – a group, maybe friends? Probably not family, he noted, as though the picture had no colours, he could still make out the shades of their skin, eyes, and hair, and the five people looked too diverse. Plus, one of them didn't even look human.

Evan seated himself in his grandfather's old chair, leaning back until he was comfortable and began to study the picture in more detail. It was hard to see, but as he began to study more closely, he could begin to make an idea of how they looked like.

Starting from the left, there was an averagely tall man. He could easily tell he was a very handsome and charming man. His hair was a light shade, so Evan assumed that he had either white or blond hair. He couldn't make out the colour of his eyes, though he couldn't see any difference in any of their eyes. Perhaps they all had a similar eye colour, Evan guessed. Even so, this man looked very fancily dressed – white shirt with probably gold linings and buttons, a beautiful crescent moon belt, puffed dark pants with fancy designed boots. His hands were littered with rings, and on his head was a very obscure-looking hat, which was extremely out-of-place. It was white and some other colour – blue? Purple? Attached to the hat was a beak – maybe a mask? On the side of the hat was a bunch of feathers, ones that looked like they were from Ereve, as Evan had remembered seeing pictures of them on the news. Nonetheless, the hat was extremely odd. Even so, Evan guessed he dressed quite flamboyantly with bright colours to show off his social status; it was obvious he was rich. In his hand was a very nice-looking cane with a gem on the tip.

He held a devilish smirk on his handsome face, though Evan could clearly see something... Off in his eyes. It was an emotion that didn't match his smirk, and it washed a feeling of remorse throughout Evan's very soul. Something bad had happened to this man, he just could feel it.

Moving onto the next person, next to the charming man stood who was slightly shorter than the previous, but held eyes sharper than a knife. His hair was much longer, going passed his shoulders, and Evan could see that his hair was probably two different colours, as the shade darkened slightly at the ends, or perhaps that was the picture's quality's fault. He couldn't tell. This man looked very righteous and lawful. His clothing were more of robes, wearing mainly white and probably gold or silver. He did look fancy, but not like the previous – he looked like a sage, with beads attached to his hips, dangling near his legs. He held some kind of staff in his gloved hands, though it wasn't quite a staff, it was shaped differently. Beside his head was this huge circle. Evan didn't know what it was, but it was something floating beside his head. Maybe it was just dust or something.

This person didn't smile at all. He was rather glaring, lips in a tight line. But despite his serious appearance, his earrings were something that really took Evan by surprise. It was so out of place for such a serious person, but then again, as Evan looked over the photograph, all of the people in the picture had very similar earrings – a normal, single gold earring. Maybe they made a pact or something.

Dismissing the thought, the next one beside the glaring man wasn't exactly human. She had pointy ears and was very much smaller than the rest of her friends. Her skin looked a bit lighter as well, such so that she entirely reminded Evan of Athena Pierce in her stature and ears. Perhaps she was an elf as well? Either way, this lady looked much more friendlier than the previous two. She had long, beautiful hair, probably blonde, and wore beautiful clothing, wearing a nicely laced shirt and matching skirt with a beautifully designed vest and skirt armour to match. Attached to the armour flowed out something like a cape or a veil. She had a pin in her hair – or maybe it was real? - that looked like a vine with tiny berries on it. She held two crossbows in her hands, except pointed down instead of the usual resting position. Instead of the single gold earrings, ones that resembled crowns dangled from her ears. She looked very elegant and important.

She wore a friendly smile and her eyes glowed with pure strength. Evan thought she was absolutely stunning, though he didn't admit it and scurried onto the next person.

The next person was also female, but unlike the previous, was extremely tall. It was a big jump to go from someone who looked smaller than Evan to someone who probably hit the ceiling every time she entered a room. Nonetheless, this woman's skin was a shades darker than everyone in the photo, so Evan guessed she wasn't from the same place as the others. Her hair was very, very light – probably white, if not, _extremely_ bleach blonde. It was tied up in a neat ponytail. Her eyes were mysterious and she wasn't smiling either. She had the same single gold earring, though jazzed up a bit with a charm attached to it. Her armour was different – a short top that only went to about her belly button, a short skirt that flowed to the back with shorts underneath it, knee-high boots, a wooly cape, long gloves, and a shoulder pad. Finally, in her hand she held a huge polearm that looked extremely heavy. It looked very fancy itself, though Evan couldn't imagine how heavy it would be. This woman was extremely strong, he could tell, most likely from the warrior class.

Next to her was a very big white wolf who had armour pads on its legs and a red marking on its head, right in between its eyes. It looked very menacing, but very loyal to its owner.

It wasn't that she looked unfriendly, just... Unapproachable. Evan wouldn't want to be on her bad side.

The final person made Evan stop breathing. This male looked incredibly similar to the one on the card – the same person, maybe? Most likely. He looked incredibly like Evan, but probably older. Late-teens? Early-to-mid twenties? He noted that all of these people looked around the same age, if not then the age differences were small. Even so, this man looked like a more mature and older Evan, with a few differences.

His hair was in a slightly different style, being more neater yet still frazzled like Evan's. His hair hue was probably similar, though it did look a tad bit darker. He had the exact same single gold earring, but unlike the others, that's all his ears had to offer – the rest usually had buds further up on their helix or at least some kind of more fancier additions, but this man simply had the one earring. He looked very normal compared to the rest, Evan noted, even his clothes weren't so wild: he wore a simple long robe, with an odd design that resembled a dragon down the middle. He held a staff that spiked out like a ball, almost resembling a flame bursting. He wore gloves on both his hands, probably ones that matched his robes. On his head was strange headband, one with a wing that came out near the ear.

Evan could make out the colours he wore from the card – his robes being red with gold linings, gloves being red as well and his staff the same. His hair was indeed a few shades darker than Evan's, but then again, it was just a painting, so it could be different in person. The headband he wore was mostly purple with gold designs, and the wing was red. His eyes were a sea blue, ones that complimented his handsome face.

He wore a nice, friendly smile that Evan knew was genuine. His eyes spoke a different tale, as they showed brilliance and honesty, almost as if Evan knew he could trust this man, like he had all the wisdom and goodness of the world inside of him.

Evan's eyes shifted and he noticed a large creature beside the nice man – a huge, huge dragon. One of which Evan had only heard about in tales, ones he only saw in storybooks. This dragon didn't particularly look scary, though. It looked nice and friendly, actually. Despite it's size, it looked very wise and warmhearted, having soft, kind eyes with a bright mark on it's forehead, in which the familiar man had put a hand on.

On the card, the dragon was very dark shade, maybe onyx, or a very, very dark blue. It was mostly onyx, though a small portion of it was golden as well, mostly shown on it's tail and back. It's eyes were gold, with big, golden horns and golden claws. The mark on it's forehead glowed yellow.

Evan guessed this man was the master of this dragon, which took Evan by surprise for a second, since he looked like such a weak person.

Besides that, the man looked very normal compared to the rest, with nothing really odd that struck out primarily – he was handsome, he admitted, but except that, he looked like a normal guy. Like a simple man, living an ordinary life...

Evan shuddered, wondering what had happened to all of these people. Judging by the picture's age, they were all probably dead by now. The thought saddened him – his grandfather must have had this picture for a reason. Perhaps all of these people were his friends that passed on much before him? The idea of his poor grandfather living out the rest of his life alone without the people most dear to him saddened Evan greatly.

For the first time since the announcement of his death, Evan felt extremely upset that his grandfather was gone. Guilt washed over him as he began his realization that he never kept his promise to his grandfather – though he did eventually learn how to read and write quite well, he never returned to show him how well he could actually do so. How lonely his grandfather must have been without anyone to visit him, without the last of his family ever showing him how much they cared. Evan felt awful, though there was nothing much he could do now – he was already gone, and no matter how much magic there was in the world, Evan could never undo that.

Sighing heavily, pushing the shame down his throat, he slipped the photograph into his pocket along with the card and continued to clean.

Evan would often take the card or photograph out from time-to-time and just stare at it, studying every feature and trying to make sense of them and why his grandfather kept them. He never figured it out, even when he went to his father about it, so after a long while he gave up and soon forgot about the entire subject, keeping them locked up in his nightstand drawer.

* * *

It wasn't until he was standing in front of four of the five people in the photograph in person that Evan finally found the answers to his questions – to who those people were, to why they were important to his grandfather, to why it was important to him.

It all came to view as to why his grandfather told these stories, ones of the heroes and how he spoke so wholeheartedly about them, how he cherished his memories so and how he looked so eager to teach Evan more and more about the history of Maple World.

Evan thought they were just stories. They were just stories made up by a crazy old man trying to relive his youth. Even Utah had pushed the thought in his mind that they were simply only fictional stories, because there wasn't any proof of the heroes actually existed.

And that's what they were to Evan. Fictional stories.

Stories which Evan forgot. Stories which his parents never retold to him. Stories in which only two people in his entire life had amused him with – two people that had seen it all, experienced it all.

And in turn, Evan learned more and more about what his grandfather hid from him, and how much he ignored so many obvious signs, and how much of a great man his grandfather was.

And Evan learned that all those stories were a mental preparation for what was to come in the future – something that only his grandfather could see, something he never wanted to truly admit, something he was ashamed to have shoved upon such an innocent farmer boy.

He entrusted Evan with the work he couldn't finish in his ageing body.

And maybe Athena Pierce knew of this too, and in turn helped prepare him as well.

The thought agonized Evan – his grandfather's dying wish was for Athena to guide him onto the right path, and yet he had failed his own grandfather when he trusted too much and listened too little.

It was all because he never came back.

"Do you need something?"

Evan stood awkwardly in the doorway to the great thief's glorious room. It was hell just trying to find the damn room, so much so that Evan had to actually ask a maid for directions. The Lumiere was such a complex place, he wondered how the servants memorized which room was which and where to go. Then again, Evan wasn't much good with directions in the first place.

"Um, Phantom, sir," Evan stuttered awkwardly, "I—uh. I have a question..."

Evan knew Phantom didn't like him much. Phantom barely accepted him as Freud's successor, even much less so a hero. Though, he was extremely accepting towards Empress Cygnus being Aria's successor – maybe it was just Evan himself that he didn't like, or maybe his bond with Freud was still so strong he denied any thought of Freud being replaced.

Or, of course, there could be the fact that Evan _accidentally_ helped the bad guy in hopes to do something right. That was a big deal, too.

"And your question is...?" Evan could already tell the other man's patience was quickly running dry – he had no time to waste on such a clumsy, naive boy.

"When I, um, was cleaning my grandfather's study a long time ago I found some, um, things," he slowly took out the card and the photograph, hesitantly offering it to the other. "I, um, don't really know what it means, but the card looks like the ones you have so I-I kind of just assumed.. A-And the picture has people that look like the other heroes and stuff..." Evan trailed on, shifted his attention away in expectation to be yelled at.

The arrogant thief snatched the photograph and card quickly out of Evan's hands, surprising the boy greatly and caused him to take a few steps back. Evan was always very jumpy with this man, as truthfully, he was slightly afraid of him.

Phantom stayed quiet for quite some time after that, studying the picture and the card carefully, flipping them both over from time to time. Evan occasionally flickered his eyes over towards him, reading his expressions before looking back away. Every time he did so, the others eyes became gloomier and gloomier, like an awful realization had been put upon himself.

"Your grandfather's name was...?" Phantom spoke after a long silence, startling Evan at first.

"F-Freud!"

"...I see." Phantom sighed, setting the card and photograph down on his desk before placing a hand over his eyes. Evan was in a mess of confusion at this point – he didn't know whether this was good news or bad news, whether he should leave or stay. He supposed he should probably comfort him – after all, Freud was a very close friend of his. But at the same time, he thought that comforting such an estranged man would be a bad approach, especially as Evan was probably on the last of Phantom's nerves.

So he just merely stood there, watching Phantom sit there and ponder for a while, probably organizing his own thoughts, reliving memories of the past with Freud. Evan went through a mild moment of guilt again, feeling bad that he had reopened a massive wound for Phantom – Evan knew the subject of Freud was one Phantom wasn't quite ready to talk about yet. It was a subject he denied talking about to anyone, even the other heroes.

It made it hard for Evan, though, as the only people that knew Freud personally was Phantom and Afrien, but in his current state, Afrien was too weak to offer much of anything for Evan and Mir. It would be very helpful and appreciated if Phantom was open enough to freely tell Evan anything he knew about his predecessor, but Evan understood greatly that it would probably be awhile before he was willing to speak about him without being reminded of his regrets and failures.

He was still healing, and Evan felt really bad that he had made the situation even worse by bringing up a probability that Freud had just recently died instead of a hundreds of years ago.

"...There's writing on the back of this photograph, boy." Phantom finally spoke – again, startling Evan. Evan peeked over, picking up the photograph and flipping it over, and sure enough, there was writing. It looked much neater than the scribbles on every piece of paper back in the study, though still unreadable.

"W-What does it say?" Evan asked, trying to figure out what the written letter said.

"I haven't a clue," Phantom admitted, and Evan looked at him with shock – Phantom was a master of decoding things, of reading between the lines and translating things, and the fact that he couldn't understand a few words really shocked Evan. "Freud's writing was the one thing I could never read. He may have had many awards and certificates for his brilliance, but his writing was absolutely atrocious."

"S-So you mean-!"

"I am not fully saying it's true, Evan," Phantom stopped him mid-sentence, dropping his hand and looking him dead in the eye, "because I have never met your grandfather. Perhaps he had merely stolen these from Freud's home after the war."

"A-Ahh, that's true, I-I'm sorry for wasting your time..." Evan sighed in disappointment – it didn't matter much to him whether or whether not his grandfather was indeed a legendary hero, but it was rather disappointing to know that the only relation he did have to his predecessor was the Mir and Afrien, and that he never communicated or could communicate with Freud himself at all.

He was also hoping he would have information to tell Afrien, too, and maybe even calm his spirits and worries a bit as well – Afrien carried much guilt and regret from his master's death, blaming himself for not doing his duty as his partner and not protecting him. With news that he did survive his injuries, it might have helped lift his woes, though that hopeful thought was now shattered.

"But," the thief continued, catching Evan's attention, "I'm not saying he_ isn't _Freud either. I had this card specially made just for me, and before the fight against the Black Mage I gave it to Freud for good luck. The only way anyone else could have had it was if they robbed his corpse, and I highly doubt Afrien would allow that." Phantom's eyes lightened up a bit, almost happy at the idea of his friend having survived the fatal wounds he had. He sighed again, "but I guess some mysteries can't be solved. For now, Evan, live with the memories your grandfather gave you, and use this photograph to inspire you to become a great hero. I... Will be taking this card back, though, because it _is_ rightfully mine." Phantom picked the delicate card up and twirled it on his fingers before gently slipping it into his palm and examining it once again.

"I will, sir! Thank you!" Evan took the photo in his hands, gripping it slightly before smiling brightly and running out of the room, likely to go off and get himself lost in the Lumiere once again.

Phantom dragged his thumb across the card, looking over the portrait of his late friend. He then smiled warmly – a genuine smile, one that he had not smiled for centuries.

He kissed the card's face, murmuring, "goodnight, Freud," before slipping it into the rest of his deck.

* * *

IT WASN'T SUPPOSE TO END GAYLY-coughs

im sorry i tried a little too hard ヽ(；▽；)ノ

i feel like i butchered everyone's character ohman i usually write for anime this is really weird ok ay

but anyways ! i hope you all enjoyed? maybe i'll write more fics in the future ehe ;v;


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